Come What May
by Shadow-Ocelot
Summary: Megaton and Tenpenny Tower? They were only the beginning. There was an entire Capitol Wasteland out there for anyone willing to take it. LW/Burke
1. The End of the World

Disclaimer: Bethesda's.

Author's Notes: I know, I know, Fallout 3 stories are a dime a dozen, but Burke stories aren't, so I decided to write one of my own. I had been playing around with the idea for about a year now, but until I caught a few good fanfics on here I had almost given up the thought. In the beginning the story will somewhat resemble the game as we know it, although I will attempt to make as many changes to not just follow the given script. I hope that will be seen quite clearly in this first chapter of how different the LW's arrival is in Megaton for the first time. The following story is a series of what ifs and the main one being what if the Lone Wanderer and Mr. Burke's relationship went further than just blowing up Megaton, and what if they decided that Tenpenny Tower was just the beginning of a greater conquest. As of now the main characters you should expect to find will be the LW, Mr. Burke, Charon, and Butch DeLoria.

R&R, it would be nice to know if I have any more Burke fans out there or if anyone else is interested in seeing a very different end to the Capitol Wasteland than allowed in the game. Enjoy.

**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE**_  
The End of the World_

oOoOo

Walking through life unnoticed  
Knowing that no one cares  
Too consumed in their masquerade  
No one sees her there  
And still she sings...

oOoOo

She had been told that the world had ended two hundred years ago when the Great War forced the hands of nations into violence and set upon man a rain of metal and mayhem. Atomic fire, radiation, and death of all design wiped almost all life from the face of the Earth. None of that was as traumatic as the hours between the time James Sheridan left Vault 101 and the time that his daughter came stumbling into the morning sunlight, tears streaming down her face and cutting through the blood that had splattered there in her savage struggle to survive and escape. She didn't even try to wipe it away as she made her first haggard steps into a new world. She didn't know it yet, but she was already feeling a very common emotion that existed in the land outside her vault: desolation.

Hatred, confusion, and sorrow mixed together into a maelstrom until she was numb, standing amidst the cyclone like the eye of the storm personified. Around her swirled the images of violence and horror that had been her waking nightmare. Her father was gone; he had abandoned her. Jonas, one of her only friends despite their age difference, was dead thanks to the Overseer. Him, Alphonse Almodovar? He was lying somewhere beneath her feet with his brains bashed in by a baseball bat for what he had done. Somewhere inside her she knew that she should feel something about that, something bad, but at the moment there was nothing left to feel and she brushed away the memory like one might shoo a fly that had been buzzing around your face. Even the thought that Amata, her best friend since they could walk, would probably hate her until the day she died was not enough to stir even the tiniest inclining of emotion from her.

In fact, the very opposite happened. It was like she could see everything so clear now. The vault had been nothing but a lie; she had read that on the overseer's computer. They had been some sick experiment, one that had been going on for over two hundred years, and if their Overseer had really cared about them, had really wanted the best he would have ignored those ancient orders and done what was right. Instead, much like his sniveling daughter, followed orders like a trained dog. She supposed she shouldn't think so negatively on Amata, since she had been one of the only people who gave her a second glance or even treated her like she was human down there. Maybe it wasn't her fault that she couldn't see things the way they are. She was blinded by a love for a father who didn't care about her, or any of them. She was probably down there now cursing her father's murderer and crying over his bludgeoned body. Good riddance. To hell with them!

Well, not _all_ of them. The only memory that seemed to slow down about the whole thing was the one surrounding her long time enemy and rival Butch DeLoria. She had hated him most her life, but in her last hours within that hellhole she had seen a side of him she felt foolish for not having seen all along. The way he'd begged her to help his mother, and then the tight and hurried embrace he had given her after she had obliged had melted the chill from their past. Like her he had always been in a silent pain. No matter how much they had cried out no one heard them. If only she had known that sooner perhaps they could have helped each other. For a moment she almost considered going back for him, but realized that there was no way they would let her back inside, and really she didn't want back in anyway. Too bad she hadn't known the truth about the Vault when she'd run into him, or she would have asked him to leave with her. Butch had always seemed too big for that place anyway.

_Sorry, Butch, I hope it gets better for you._

She had a feeling it wouldn't for her. It would only get worse out here. The people were unfamiliar, as was any customs. She had no money to her name and the only possessions she had on her person were a baseball bat, a bb gun, some radroach meat (uck!), her vault suit, Butch's Tunnel Snakes jacket, and a 10 MM pistol that she was certain was about to crumble into little pieces of metal dust. She would have to find a way to repair or replace it very soon. She reached into her pocket and found her only other possession. It was the photograph that was taken on her tenth birthday – a photograph of her and the man that had ruined her life.

There was a sick part of her that wanted to rip it in half and then burn it until it was nothing but ash. He had lied to her for nearly 20 years and then just up and left her to the wolves. He'd left her a letter with Jonas to give to her, and it said nothing except that there was something out there more important than his daughter that he had to attend to. It wasn't in so many words, but to her that's exactly what it said. The worst part of the whole thing was she had grown up wanting to be a carbon copy of Dr. James Sheridan. Now it was the last thing she wanted.

=O=

Since she had nowhere else to go she begun to head to the closest town, the one she had read about in the overseer's computer: Megaton. It was a subconscious decision really, for she had already made it halfway there before she broke out of her angry thoughts to realize she was getting closer and closer to the little dot on the screen that bore its name. In the burnt out old township her pip-boy told her was "Springvale" she saw the sign pointing to her destination and followed it. Not even twenty minutes later she was walking up to a great wall of metal and debris. She noted a man up on a catwalk, a sniper rifle aimed uncomfortably at her head. Taking a deep breath she walked on, hoping to not look suspicious at all. It wasn't like she was up to something.

The robot in front of the city droned on about what was inside; she didn't listen. To be honest she didn't want to be here and didn't care about who or what was inside those gates. All she cared about was answers. If her father had went anywhere he probably came here first. Odds were he hadn't had much when he left the vault. It wasn't like he could have just packed a bag and strolled on out. No, he would need supplies, for if there were anything James taught her it was how to be prepared.

Inside it was more alive than she thought it would be. People wandered along Megaton's walkways, up and down the slope that led to the pool of water containing a bomb, there were a few strange creatures with two heads that were mooing far below, and …

Wait, bomb? Her fragile psyche snapped.

What the hell kind of town kept a bomb in the center like some scrap-metal statue of days gone by? Did they need a reminder of what had turned their world into this pit of squalor? Were they just that sick in the head? The girl from Vault 101 couldn't believe her eyes as she approached it. She was too immersed in her own state of shock to hear the cries of the townspeople as they began to notice her.

If she had been able to look in a mirror she would have seen what all the fuss was about. Her auburn hair was matted with sweat and blood, most of it from the Overseer that had misjudged what she had been capable of. Her clothes were spattered with more of it, some of his, some of it from security personnel, some of it her own. There was a blackened hole in the right arm of her vault suit from where she'd been shot on her way out. The worst was the tear in thigh from where one of her attackers had desperately grabbed for a knife and tried to stab her. She'd aimed a perfect shot at their heart and as they fell the knife had cut into her flesh. It was nothing too serious, unless you counted the bleeding, but that had mostly stopped now and just throbbed with a dull ache.

"Young lady?" A voice inquired from behind her. At first she didn't think he was talking to her. She certainly didn't feel like a lady, and she sure as hell didn't feel young anymore. On the contrary, her escape from her underground prison had aged her considerably.

Numbly she turned to the sound of the voice. It had been muffled, as were the voices of all the other people, the sounds of the strange cattle, and the whining clank of all the metal that made up this odd little town. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

She had already turned away from him and was staring at the bomb again, wondering once more why something like that would be kept so close. It was volatile, damned dangerous. She tilted her head as she thought and finally came up with a decent solution. Perhaps it was an omen. Or maybe this was all a very weird dream and she would awaken in her bed, her father standing over her announcing that it was time to get up and go to work. If she was going to be some vault big shot she couldn't laze about all day. A crooked smile melted onto her lips as she thought, prayed that this was the truer version of her fantasy.

"Miss? Were you attacked?" Gentle hands had come down to rest on her shoulders and she felt the sharp sting of pain as her arm was moved, causing the bullet inside it to press against a nerve.

"Attacked?" She repeated dumbly, swiveling her eyes to the man in the brimmed cowboy hat that was leading her somewhere.

"Yes, attacked. You're covered in blood." His eyes looked downright worried and confused as he took in the state of her. Finally she looked down at herself and began to laugh. The man called Lucas Simms had not heard a laugh like that in a long time; it was the sound of insanity. She continued to giggle as he pulled her toward Doc Church's clinic, glaring at some of the other settlers as he did. He was glad for when they passed through the doorway and out of sight.

"You better be dyin' whoever you are!" Church called.

The girl did not answer, but Simms stepped around the partition, somber as if he'd come from a funeral. "I think something bad has happened. I need to you take a look at this girl."

"This girl, Lucas?" Doc Church inquired.

"Newcomer; she just wandered in not five minutes ago. Covered in blood and –" He could still hear her light laughter under her breath. "Just look at her, will you? I'll pay for it."

Megaton's doctor grumbled something but motioned for him to bring her in. He wouldn't turn down some caps. What he saw surprised even him. He noticed the vault suit, vaguely remembering where it was. "Do you think she came all the way from there in this condition?" He urged his near-catatonic patient to sit down on one of the cots and started to examine her wounds. The first being the bullet wound in her arm. "Can she talk?"

Simms nodded, "but she hasn't said much. I figured she's in some kind of shocked, maybe stuck in her own mind for now." Simms had seen that happen to many people out here, especially people that weren't ready to cope with life outside like she was. It didn't just happen to folks coming out of the vaults, but from city slickers that had spent their entire lives in safe settlements like Rivet City or even Megaton.

Church nodded. "She will probably come out of it." He reached for a pair of forceps and held them near the wound in her arm. The scream that tore from her lips the second he began to pull the bullet out was eardrum shattering.

"Don't fucking touch me! _Get away from me!_" It seemed that the patient had finally snapped out of it and was violent as all get out. Neither of them blamed her much, mostly because they still did not know what had happened to her.

"Hold her down, Lucas, for Christ sakes!" The doctor shouted and the self-proclaimed sheriff and mayor obliged. Seconds later Church had stuck her with a needle full of sedatives and she began to go limp. Her eyes fluttered closed and they laid her down. "_Goddamn_."

=O=

Even a month in this wretched little series of shacks seemed like a prison sentence of years. Despite the housing his caps had purchased for him it still did not compare to the luxurious accommodations of Tenpenny Tower. What might have seemed like a worthy abode to these degenerates was nothing but a pile of scrap for a man like Mr. Burke and he loathed to set foot in his own home. Of course it wasn't his true home, but it would have to do until his work here was complete. He spent most of his days sitting in Moriarty's Saloon, sometimes reading, sometimes drinking, but always watching. A week or so back he thought he had finally had the perfect candidate for the job, but then he had been disappointed to find the man had other plans, such as the ones to blackmail Burke for a large sum of money in exchange for his silence about his plans. That man now rotted somewhere in a dark corner of Megaton, never to speak another word again. How foolish of him to think Burke played games, for he did not.

Burke did not know it at the time, but a change of fortune was in order for him. A morning like any other was soon to become the day his dream of seeing this job through to the end became reality. It was Lucy West that would be the unlikely herald, flying into Moriarty's with the most curious stunned expression on her face. "You won't believe what's happened!"

"Are we being attacked by a herd of flying Brahmin, _that_ would be unbelievable!" Colin Moriarty drawled, and threw back his head in a little laugh. A few of the other patrons did, too. Burke frowned behind his drink. Until he had come to Megaton he had been one of those staunch believers that gentlemen didn't drink until the afternoon, but here there was little else to do unless you were willing to hire the whore, and Burke had his standards. It did not help that the bar owner liked to hear the sound of his own voice and was cursed with a brand of ignorance that made Burke's brain bleed.

"No, no, there's a girl down at Church's place. She came in all bloody. At first she just stood and stared at the bomb like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and then Simms took her to Church's. Before that she started to laugh. It was crazy! Best part was she was wearing one of those vault suits, same number as the guy who was in here earlier this morning. You know the one you were talking to." She addressed Moriarty at the end, and by the smirk on the bar owner's face Burke surmised he probably knew exactly who the little girl down at the clinic was.

"Well, isn't that just an amazing happenstance?" Moriarty said. "Two vaulties in one day! I wonder what's going on down there."

Burke snorted to himself. These people would talk about anything out here. He supposed it was being forced to live such a dreary existence that led one to make a big deal out of most everything. Someone stumbling bloody into town was an almost everyday occurrence, but shove a vault suit on someone and it became big news. Big deal. If he could have rigged that bomb himself he would have and gotten the hell out of there. Sadly he had never been interested in that kind of thing. He regretted that now. Hindsight was a real bitch after all.

=O=

"_Daddy?_" The girl on the cot inquired as she began to rouse. Her mind had already began to mount a defense upon the traumatized memories of that morning, pushing them steadily back into darkness until they were just a tangled mess of images and feeling. As she pulled herself to a sitting position she grasp at the strands and tried to pull them back to the forefront despite an inkling feeling that once she remembered everything she would wish she could forget it again.

"Nope," a voice to her right said, "Sorry to disappoint you." The girl had been out most of the day and during that time Doc Church had managed to remove the bullet in her arm and stitch up the wound in her leg. The latter would likely become a nasty scar, but it was a small price to pay for being lucky enough that whatever blade was used didn't hit a major artery. He'd kept her sedated throughout the entire procedure and then settled himself in a chair nearby to do some work and wait for her to awaken. Simms had made it perfectly clear that the moment she was lucid he wanted to talk to her.

"Where am I?" Absently a hand lifted to rub the sleep and disorientation from her face, but it only served to smear the grime that was present there. When it came away she noticed just how dirty she was and wrinkled her nose in mild disgust. "Do you have a washcloth or something?"

"Not a clean one. They're currently in the wash. Used most of what I had to clean the areas around your wounds. There's a public bath up on the second level when we're finished here if you really want to clean up." Church also did not want to extend her stay with him any longer than he had to. He preferred to be alone. He stood and walked towards the door, "stay here, I will be right back." He disappeared into the other room and she could hear the creaking of a door opening and the sudden influx of sounds from the settlement. "_Tell Simms to get his ass down here, she's awake."_

Meanwhile she was beginning to piece together the flurry of images that were slowly coming back to her. If she hadn't have woken up in this strange place, body aching from unfamiliar strain, she would have thought it was all some crazy dream. The weight of her situation was set upon her like a ton of bricks, and she was reminded of ancient torture methods where they slowly covered you in stone until you were crushed to death under the pressure. "Who's Simms?" She asked when the doctor came back in, trying to get her mind off what her life would most likely be like from now on.

Doc Church wasn't in the mood to play babysitter, but answered nonetheless, "He's the town Sheriff and Mayor. He was the one that brought you here – and also the one who paid for your care."

That began to come back as well and she blanched at the memory. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I attacked you guys didn't I?"

"_Hell_ of a way to show your appreciation." He gave her a nod, confirming her memory to be quite intact and truthful. "You were in shock when he brought you in, damn near catatonic. The pain must have brought you around."

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening again and she turned her head to watch for his arrival. He had been the one that had spoken to her while she looked at that bomb. "Hello there, its nice to see you awake and responsive."

A forced smile twitched its way on her lips. "I guess I'm glad to be awake. You Simms?"

"Simms I am, young lady. What's your name?"

"Uh, Mara. Mara Sheridan. I'm from Vault 101, _obviously_." The last bit she muttered almost self-depreciatingly as she realized that it was stupid to point it out seeing as she was wearing a vault suit with the number 101 stamped on it.

"Can you tell me what happened to you?"

Police procedure was apparently very similar out here to how it was in the vault. A lot of prying questions she didn't really want to answer but knew she could, wrapping her in a state of uncertainty. "I was stabbed. Then I was shot. Then I somehow got here."

Doc Church raised an eyebrow at her cryptic answer and Sheriff Simms gave her a deep sigh. "All right, that's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Whatever happened must have been very traumatizing to you."

Her mouth twitched again as she held back the urge to scream. She knew that he was just trying to be nice, but really? Of course whatever happened to her had been traumatizing! What kind of life did they live out here if this shit was normal? She changed subjects. This one was another unpleasant one and even though she didn't want to talk about it either it was a lot better than being asked questions about the escape she'd sooner forget and leave in the past. "I'm looking for my father." She hadn't determined if that was a lie yet or not, for part of her wanted to find him and the other part wanted to say to forget him like she wanted to forget the vault. "He might have come through here, and would have been wearing a vault suit like mine."

Simms thought about this for a moment before saying, "I think I did hear of someone coming into town earlier. He was here and gone before I got a chance to speak with him though so I can't tell you much more than that. If you're really serious on tracking him down you might check up with Moira up in Craterside Supply or in Moriarty's Saloon. A lot of the town gossips hang around in there and so if anyone knows something it would probably be in there, but if you do go be careful. Moriarty's a real bastard, don't trust a damned thing he says."

=O=

After Simms had given her directions to the restrooms Mara showed herself out. He had offered to walk her there, but she had declined, saying she wanted to be alone right then. Everywhere else she could probably find on her own, too. Megaton might have been a labyrinth of metal, but it was still small and it wouldn't take long to discover everything there was to discover about the place. Luckily it was dark by the time she left the clinic and not as many people were out as they were earlier that day and she was able to make her way to the restrooms unhindered. The few people that did look at her merely gawked and then went on their way. Perhaps they figured that starting trouble with a girl still covered in blood was a bad idea. At that moment it would have been because she was in no mood for that kind of thing.

Cursing she struggled with the old, bent door, finding it ironic that she could escape a vault but she couldn't make this flimsy piece of trash budge. Feet away from her bath and she was being denied by the very building that housed it. "Come on, you son of a bitch!" She growled through gritted teeth. The sooner she had her bath the sooner she could get that information on her father, if she so decided to do so. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least have the information at hand if she wanted to look him up.

An amused chuckled drew her attention to the fact that she was being watched. She turned her head to the man standing a few feet away, pausing in her assault on the door. He was an older gentleman, and when she said gentleman she meant it. Unlike a lot of people in this town he had a certain quality to him: groomed. His suit was near spotless and fit like it had been made just for him, his hat was in prime condition (not one scuff), and the biggest thing was that he wore a pair of glasses. She had not seen anyone with glasses until then and bet that they were a hard thing to come by. If she asked him he might even tell her that they were his prescription. He could not have been more out of place if he was wearing a sombrero and rode by on a polar bear. The voice that came from his lips was one of refined elegance; it had probably taken most of his life to sound that way. "You must be the girl everyone is talking about. Do you need any help?"

She wrinkled her nose, and spat with more than a little sarcasm, "yippee, I'm _famous_."

"You will find that even the mere thought of the word vault out here and people will go positively insane." He explained.

Mara turned back to the door, "you going to help me or stand there talking about the conversational habits of ignoramuses and fools?" She kneed the door again and jerked, hoping…

Behind her the man called Mr. Burke gave her a surprised smirk. "Well, if you insist." He didn't usually stop to help random strangers, but this one had made quite a stir as well as seemed to have quite the fiery personality. Just one door would not put a dent in his reputation. With little resistance he managed to pop the door open. "Ah! The trick is to know the little things, my dear. You see this town is as boring as they come and it doesn't take long to learn the little habits of both its people and its things." As an afterthought he added, mouth twisting with displeasure, "Even if we do not want to."

"So I was right. You don't belong here."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, when I first saw you I thought to myself you looked extremely out of place." Mara explained, hand indicating his clothes and on a deeper level, though she was sure he probably wouldn't get it, his mannerisms.

He looked thoughtful. "That I don't. I am only here on business. Extended business much to my disappointment. However, I am sure you do not wish to hear an old man talking about himself. Enjoy your bath," he tipped his hat at her just fraction, "and be careful with the lock, its busted. If you want to make sure no one walks in on you shove a few things in front of it. Good night."

=O=

Like the mysterious suited man said the lock on the bathroom door was indeed broken. The mechanism would catch, sure, but if you jiggled it a few times it would pop open. She frowned. The door was either too difficult to open or too easy. Such was her luck. Pushing aside why he would know such a thing she dragged a few of the trashcans she found in the room over and placed them in the path of the door. Even if someone were able to shove them out of the way it would give her time to at least wrap a towel around her.

Despite the strange tingle the water left on her skin Mara did enjoy her bath. She let herself soak for a good fifteen minutes at least, letting the blood and grime slowly dissolves and fall away. The hardest part was scrubbing her face and hair. She hated the idea of missing a patch just because the blood and her hair color were only a few shades different. Before she began to prune she lifted herself up and let the water drain, taking with it the biggest reminder of her morning's nightmare. She had just began to dry herself off when she heard the light tapping on the metal door. "Hello?" She inquired. "Someone's in here. If you'll give me a moment I'll be right out."

Instead whoever it was retreated wordlessly, but she saw a small shadow beneath the door. Something had been set in front of it, blocking the moonlight. She quickly finished drying, slipping on her underclothes and pulling on her jumpsuit just enough so that the pants were on. Her tank top was enough to cover her upper body for the moment. It was a pain to move the trashcans back out of the way, especially now that she was a lot cleaner and actually minded getting dirty.

To her surprise she found some kind of leather outfit folded neatly outside the door. On top of it was a slip of folded paper. The outside read, _To the Girl from Vault 101._ She flipped it open and read the contents, which seemed to be some kind of excerpt of poetry.

_It is like this  
In death's other kingdom  
Walking alone  
At the hour when we are  
Trembling with tenderness  
Lips that would kiss  
From prayers to broken stone._

Beneath that, in the same scrawling, but elegant handwriting, yet obviously not a part of this re-written poem were the words, _Welcome to the Wasteland._

_

* * *

_

The opening song quote is from the song "Everything Burns" sung by Anastacia and Ben Moody. In a way the song is almost like theme for the LW Mara and fits her struggles once she enters the wasteland.

The poetry quote is from Part III of T.S. Eliot's "The Hollowmen" which is one of my favorite poems from one of my favorite poets. I might use more from this at a later date, maybe not. Although the meaning of the original poem obviously wasn't intended for the use I put it in, the words of that stanza seemed to fit Mara's situation too perfectly I could not pass up the chance to use it.

**Chapter 2: Born Yesterday** - Mara finds Moriarty and reluctantly agrees to his terms, yet a moment of bad luck threatens to not only keep her from any real progress but potentially leave her in debt with the manipulative bar owner.


	2. Born Yesterday

Jissai Thank you for the fave! I'm happy you like it so far!

Dreamweaver74 I totally agree! I'm a sucker for characters who don't get more attention than I think they should so I just had to write this. Burke's just too interesting to pass up.

And for everyone else who has faved or alerted mucho appreciations, guys! I hope you all like this one.

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**CHAPTER TWO**_  
Born Yesterday_

At the very least Colin Moriarty was an unpleasant man. Mara could tell within minutes that he was the kind of person that thought himself suave and persuasive, but was really nothing more than just another manipulative asshole who valued money above honor. The proof of this was when he had revealed his price for the information concerning the whereabouts of her father: 100 caps. Until this point they'd both played nice because he knew she wanted something and she knew already from talk around town that he was a hard bargainer who used his charm first and then intimidation. She had been hoping to negotiate something both of them could live with, yet it appeared Moriarty was going to play hardball and she could not accept this offer. Caps were what went for currency out here in the wasteland, a lesson Mara had learned very quickly, and at that moment she only had one in her possession from a bottle of Nuka-Cola that a man named Billy Creel had bought her when she first came in.

"100 caps? Are you mad!" She cried, incredulous. "You know I've only been out of that damned vault not even a day and you're asking for that kind of payment? What kind of man are you?" Rhetorical question, more or less, although there was a part of her that would have liked an honest answer from him just once. It would have been fascinating to see how he really thought of himself.

"Listen, lass," Moriarty said in his easy-going, conversational tone, "I'm a business man, and information is just another commodity."

"_Information_ is just words, and words are free, you asshole." Mara snarled through gritted teeth as her fingers gripped the counter in front of her with all the strength her fingers had. She feared that if she had let go she would have raised them to his neck and throttled as much life out of him as possible before someone pulled her off. "I hope you know that you're going to rot in Hell."

Moriarty wasn't fazed by her anger; he had no doubt heard similar, if not worse, from others. The man probably didn't have one friend in the world and she doubted that he had _ever_ had one. Her eyes shifted to a butter knife on one of the shelves behind the bar and imagined herself leaping over it so she could stick it in his throat. Instead she forced herself to shake the violent thought from her mind and sighed, turning to leave. The older man's brogue broke through her dismal thoughts as she reached the door and acted like a lasso, drawing her back into conversation. "But... I do have need of someone to do a little work for me. Perhaps you might consider this as a way to earn the money."

Mara stopped, remembering Simms warning not to trust this man, and knew she should just walk out. She hadn't even made a clear choice whether she really wanted to see her father or not. Still, the curiosity got the better of her, knowing that if she didn't at least ask, didn't at least _try_ later she might look back and regret and that was something she didn't want. "What kind of work?"

He crooked his finger and bid her return to the counter where they could talk a little more quietly, and privately. A few of the other patrons were already subtly watching their exchange with interest. Unlike Mara they held no touch of curiosity, but rather quite the opposite. They already knew this play, had probably seen it a hundred times before, and like men and women waiting for the next installment of some pre-war soap opera they salivated in anticipation at how this would play out. That should have been the first sign she was over her head.

"I had this employee, junkie bitch called Silver. She ran off to Springvale with a lot of my caps and needless to say I'm none to happy. I need someone to go take care of this problem for me."

"And by 'take care of the problem' what do you mean?" Mara inquired. Was he asking her to kill someone? Did he want revenge or did he just want his caps back?

"Oh, my dear, what do _you_ think? The whore had probably already spent the caps on drugs, but if they're there bring them back to me, otherwise I want you to send her a message, a _permanent _ one that you do not cross Colin Moriarty."

"What makes you think I'm the kind of person to kill someone?" Mara felt her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know how the world outside the vault was, so she was frightened that they were having a very illegal conversation at this moment. The presence of a man like Lucas Simms in this town indicated it most likely was. The disadvantages of growing up in a sheltered, controlled environment were pressing in upon her. If she wasn't careful it would they would be the end of her.

"Sweet baby girl," Moriarty drawled with amusement, "those wounds of yours were not enough to account for all that blood on you when you came into town." He dropped his voice, his lips curling into a knowing, cruel smile. "_Who did you kill_?"

Mara drew back like he had struck her. "That is _none_ of your concern."

"Silver?" He questioned.

"I'll do your little favor, you bastard." She cringed inside, ashamed of what she was doing. Even if she did decide she didn't want to find her father it wouldn't hurt to have some caps in her pocket. "But not tonight. I'll go in the morning." The least she could do is control how and when this happened. She wasn't going to go running all over the place looking for this woman in the middle of the night.

Colin Moriarty smiled. "Good. I will see you tomorrow then." He excused himself and disappeared into the back room. As soon as he was gone she gave a small cry of frustration and let her head fall forward onto the counter into her hands.

"There're raiders in Springvale." A dry, racked voice said suddenly.

"Wha da fuck 'er raiders?" Mara asked, face still planted on the bar, voice muffled by the arms that she had wrapped around her head.

"Just that, raiders. They rob and they kill. Sometimes they torture."

At the word torture she lifted her head to the speaker. Eyes widened as she caught sight of him. The man that stood before her looked like something out of a horror film, rotted skin stretched across what it could, exposing muscle and sinew where it couldn't. Her gaze traveled up his stained t-shirt to his face. Despite his monstrous appearance his eyes, though cloudy, held touches of kindness and worry. "What happened to you?" Her surprise had been enough to curb whatever inhibitions she had about asking questions that weren't her business. It had also turned off whatever part of her brain warned her when something might bother another person. Her hand stretched out to touch him before she realized she was doing it.

"Radiation." He answered simply, drawing his arm away from her, avoiding her touch. "This is what happens when the sickness doesn't kill you."

"Was it… was it painful?" She pulled back her hand, suddenly self-conscious at her curiosity.

The man reached up and absently scratched his ear. It was a sign of nervousness. "Yes. Uh, do you want a drink or something? It's getting late and it's about time to close, but I can still bring you a bottle if you want it."

"I don't want anything thank you." She said softly. "You were talking about raiders in Springvale?" He had obviously overheard the talk between her and Moriarty.

"They stay mostly up at the school or in that area, but they come closer to the Megaton side when it's closer to time for some of the caravans to come through. If you're careful you might be able to avoid them, but… whatever you do don't…" He looked like he struggled with his advice. It seemed like he wanted to tell her something but was afraid to.

"I'm not going to get myself killed over that jackass' revenge fantasy."

He looked relieved. "You seem like a nice girl. The world is a cruel place. Trust me, I know. Be careful out there."

Mara slid off the barstool. "What's your name?"

"Gob." He answered.

"What an odd name. I like it." She mused, smiling the first genuine smile since all of this had begun. "See you around."

=O=

Like the ancient prophets, Aaron Kidd gazed into his glass of whiskey as if searching for the answers to his problems. He watched with mournful eyes as the amber liquid sloshed back and forth with nothing to say on the matter. The only thing it could promise was temporary relief from the stress he was enduring and a lack of control and coordination if he wasn't careful. Also, bad decisions. His choice making capabilities being impaired were what had led him into this problem in the first place and he doubted that repeating the process would bring better results. _Can't undo the past._ Closing his eyes he threw back the drink in his hand and felt the warm burn trace down his esophagus.

Building up courage was something that he had never thought he would have to do, but in the past couple months it was becoming a startling routine. It had all started when a drunken caravan guard made a wager with a saloon owner and then lost. Upon the loss of this wager he was told callously that if he didn't uphold his part of the deal that there would be major problems coming his way. Threats were used, one detailed one having to do with Kidd's wife in particular that left a bitter memory, and being that Kidd had always been kind of a pacifist when it came to standing up for himself he backed down and agreed to do as instructed. Explaining the situation to his wife had been the first time he'd had to find his fled courage.

Like a broken hero his bravery just wanted to be forgotten and left in the dust back there at the fork in the road Kidd had taken to get to this point. Instead of taking the bright shiny path he'd wound up wandering alone down the twisting, ever-descending road to ruin. _Goddamn Moriarty._ Now Kidd had to explain to the man why he didn't have _any_ of his caps this week. Usually he had little to spare anyway, but at least he would have something to bring to the table. This time he had nothing because Felicity had been ill and doctors had to be paid. Doctoring bills that high should have been as illegal as the extortion Moriarty was running on people in Kidd's opinion, but there was nothing for him to do except pay it unless he wanted her to die from something completely treatable. As much as he had screwed up his family's life with his choices he wasn't going to damn one of them to death because he had to pay off some arrogant Irishman.

There was no use prolonging the inevitable so he just threw back one last shot and started to rise to his feet to face the discordant music. Only _she_ beat him to his target, the vault girl he'd heard everyone talking about. The teenage girl breezed right up to the counter and proceeded to strike up conversation with Moriarty. Kidd watched the older man's face melt from one expression to another: surprise, cordiality, and then finally wickedness. All the while he studied the girl with solemnity. She seemed so young, and not just in age. Soon the world would use that youth to be her undoing and her gentle beauty would be desecrated by these wastelands, forced to shrivel up under the pressure and strain of life here. He couldn't help but notice how her dark hair was a mixture of both brown and red, the latter of which shimmered brightly in the lights above the bar. It reminded him of blood, blood that would surely come if she made a deal with Moriarty.

Which, from her unhappy expression when she left, Kidd surmised was probably the case. Not long after she left Moriarty ordered his usual close-up procedure and waved him back to speak to him. Moriarty was smiling pleasantly. It worried Kidd and set him on edge, especially when the other man led him to the back to talk alone. "How would you like to erase your debt with me?"

Kidd searched Moriarty's face to check for any kind of tell that he was lying or trying to pull something on him. When he could read none (although he kept in mind just because he didn't see it didn't mean that deception wasn't there) he asked, "you'd let me do that?"

"Oh, come now, Aaron, I'm not an unreasonable man." Moriarty tsked, but Kidd would have argued that fact if the man wouldn't have been offering him a way out.

"What do you want?"

"Do you remember that girl I was talking to, I'm sure you were watching?"

Kidd didn't question how Moriarty knew that he had indeed been watching their exchange because by this point he had just come to an understanding that Moriarty just knew things, whether it be because of an inborn talent to read and know people or some other way to which Kidd wouldn't have tried to guess in a million years. "Yeah, I remember her. She important?"

This time Moriarty took an extra moment to consider his answer. "Only as far as business goes."

Later Kidd found this out to be somewhat of a lie, but at that moment Moriarty seemed to mean it and continued to explain to the down on his luck guard what he could do to improve his life and the lives of his family. As much as he hated it he then took this new – and hopefully last – deal from the man.

"And remember, you can keep the caps you get. Just don't ever come back to Megaton. I never want to see your face here again, understand me?"

Kidd understood, all too well. He said nothing though because he at least shared that sentiment; he never wanted to see Moriarty again either.

=O=

THE NEXT DAY

Mara Sheridan did not sleep the night before, though she tried. Her insomnia was the product of a brain that wouldn't shut off, which she could not blame after the trying day she had. Thoughts of her father drifted in and out and although she was angry with him she wondered if he was safe or what he was doing at that same moment. Was the good doctor having trouble sleeping, too? She also thought of the deceased Overseer and tried to rally normal emotions about what had happened, but her heart remained stubbornly unapologetic about Alphonse Almodovar's passing. Surprisingly she thought little at all about his daughter.

The sounds in the common house were another culprit, for when you had that many people in one small area it was unpredictably noisy and not everyone slept at the same time. Despite this there was a shortage of bed and Mara was forced to find a corner and prop herself up, carefully wrapping her arms around herself and her property. Between the constant buzz and the fear someone would try to take what little she possessed she found no rest and the hours ticked by slow and painful.

It was most likely her lack of sleep that provided the catalyst for just about everything unpleasant that would happen for the rest of the day beginning with the failed negotiation with the Moriarty's ex-employee Silver. Revulsion rolled around in the pit of Mara's stomach at what had occurred in that little ranch house in Springvale, but she kept telling herself that it had been unavoidable. Silver had been hard to reason with and Mara was already on edge. Between Silver's hostile nature and Mara's nerves everything had exploded into violence and the recently ejected vault dweller had lost her temper as well as her control. Silver was dead now and Mara knew that, like in the case of the Overseer, she should feel bad about that. Killing had been something she had never wanted to do in her life – unless it the targets were radroaches - yet in less than two days it was becoming something she couldn't seem to run from.

Walking back from Springvale Mara felt a startling sense of déjà vu with the sand-blown wind howling through her ears and blood speckling her clothing where she had not bothered to wipe it away after her "business" was concluded. To be honest she hadn't really noticed the crimson splatterings until that moment. They weren't as bad as the smeared stains that now adorned the vault suit that now lay folded up in the pack she had found in the upper levels of the common house, dusty and forgotten by a long gone occupant. Trying to clean it off would have just left her hands bloody again and she preferred to avoid that, not only for the cleanliness factor, but also for the obvious symbolism the scene portrayed in her head when she thought about it.

Lost in her own thoughts Mara completely forgot about the potential dangers of the wastes and didn't realize she was being followed until the telling click of a hammer being drawn back caught her attention. Slowly she turned her head to see a man standing in an alcove, revolver pointed at her head. Upon being seen he stepped out, "Give me all your caps and I'll let you live. Try anything funny and I'll leave you here for the wild dogs to pick your bones clean."

Mara swallowed. "I won't try anything, I promise." Although she wished she could. Still, she had meant what she'd told Moriarty's bartender, that she wasn't going to die because of him and these caps weren't worth it. Sure she'd have to start from scratch to earn the money to find her dad, but that was just a matter of time where this was a matter of life and death. She slipped the pack off her back and started to reach inside to retrieve the small bag of caps that were within, but the man lunged forward and grabbed it from her hands. "Hey!" Acting out of instinct she tried to grab it back. Everything except the 10 mm that was strapped to her side was in that bag.

"Back!" The man ordered, raising his arm as if to hit her in warning.

"Just take the caps. I need my stuff!" She did not relent and tried for it again. This time the man gave no warning and smashed the butt of his gun into the side of her head, knocking her off balance. Her hands covered the place she'd been struck, giving him an opening to fully grab her and slam it into the back of her neck. Moments later she was out cold and crumpled onto the ground.

Aaron Kidd shouldered the girl's pack and walked away.

=O=

The door to Moriarty's Saloon not so much swung open as _flew_. The vault girl strode inside, her eyes sweeping around the room until they landed on the man she wanted to talk to. The namesake of the bar was in the middle of a one-sided yelling match with the woman that worked for him. Mara didn't care. "Moriarty!" She barked. The steely look of determination that was written across her features as well as the dried blood across the front of her leather armor must have signaled it would be unwise to dismiss her because when he turned to address her his face went from irritated to thoughtful.

"Well, if it isn't the lil' vault darlin' come to call."

"Shut it." She growled, balling her fists tightly at her sides and walking over to him. Freshly robbed and on edge she didn't care that there were people watching. "We need to talk."

Moriarty just nodded and waved the other redhead off and motioned for Mara to follow him to his office. The girl didn't trust him as far as she could throw him – and she wasn't very strong so throwing a man like Moriarty would have been quite a feat – but didn't think he'd try anything too dastardly in the middle of the day with so many customers just yards away. When they were finally alone Moriarty leaned against the wall and inquired upon her progress, "did you come up with the caps we talked about?" There was something more wickedly smug in his tone than before, or maybe she was just imagining it after what she'd just been through. Either way it pissed her off.

"Well, I _had_ them." She admitted through gritted teeth. It was bad enough everyone out here probably thought she was some pathetic, sheltered weakling. The phrase "easy mark" came to mind. Sadly, it was kind of appropriate.

"Had is very different from have." Moriarty pointed out.

"Yeah, I _know_ that. Listen, I managed to get your fucking caps back from that fucking whore and then on the way back some asshole decided to hold me up at gunpoint. So no I don't have your stupid caps." In that moment she felt worthless and powerless. Now she was not only broke but looked like a fool. "I, uh, are you sure that there's nothing else I can do for you around here to earn those caps. I mean I _did_ take care of silver for you after all. That's got to be worth something."

Moriarty grinned, devilishly. "Aye, you'll have my thanks for that, but as for jobs I'm not currently in need of anything else I'm afraid. However, finding yourself one would be a good idea for you – seeing as you'll be needing to pay those caps back you lost."

"What?" He wasn't saying what she _thought_ he was saying. "That wasn't part of the original deal!"

"Perhaps not, but you admitted to having them in your possession. You admitted to losing them. Why they were in your possession they were your responsibility. You lost them so it is your responsibility to _replace_ them."

"It wasn't my fault. I was robbed." Mara was in pure disbelief, and it finally began to sink in just why Simms had been warning her about this man. Sure he had seemed like the world's biggest asshole, but she hadn't expected this.

"I told you from the beginning that this was all business. Now come up with those caps or you'll be getting nothing from me. Oh, and the price for the information on your dear old Da is now 300."

"_What!"_ Mara cried. "300? What the hell, you said 100!"

"Yes, I did, but this whole situation is getting to be more trouble than its worth. So I would get started if I were you. The longer it takes you to come up with my money the harder it will be for me to remember exactly where your Dad went, if you catch my drift. The price just might raise again."

"You… you bastard!" She shrieked and grabbed the nearest object to throw at his head. The ashtray flew passed him and smashed into the wall. "This is extortion!"

"Such a harsh word." He told her. "Tragic accident perhaps, but extortion no. Unfortunately I can't just let that many caps go. When they were stolen from you they became your problem. You have best pay them back. Trust me when I tell you you'll regret it if you try to run. I _will_ find you." She'd never seen someone look so cruel and that frightened her. She was sure he meant every word of it. He'd sent her to take care of Silver and if she tried to get out of this he'd send someone for her, too, and with as little experience as she had out here she wouldn't make it very far. Stunned to silence she didn't even fight when he guided her back out into the main bar area and bid her a good afternoon. "Remember now, that's 500 that Silver stole from me and 300 for that information you want. Your debt is 800 caps, girl. I'll be seeing you around."

He turned and began to walk away, mouth curling in that smug smile of his. It was then her brain began to snap. "Don't walk away from me." Mara was trying to quell the raging storm in her chest. All that anger she had been trying to repress sine yesterday was welling up again. Her voice was controlled, but anyway paying close enough attention could see she was struggling to keep it that way. When Moriarty didn't respond she pulled the scratched up 10 mm from her side and aimed it at his back, raising her voice and finally losing the battle with her emotions. "I said don't fucking walk away from me!"

_You'll pay attention to me now you prick._ Even before she had finished her angry exclamation she knew she was doing something very stupid. Aiming a weapon at a bar owner, even a bastard of one, pushed the bounds of civilization. Something like that would never have gone over in the vault, and she could not imagine it would have been much different out here. In fact, as she looked down her sights at the frozen man she realized that as rough as this place was almost everyone in here probably had a weapon, including Moriarty. Between them she could make a sure bet he would use his first if it came down to it, and although she had already killed two people she desperately didn't want to add a third to that list and be branded a murderer right off the bat.

Mara trembled with anger, and fear, but refused to back down now. It was too late for that. "Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger?"

* * *

Sorry no Burke in this chapter. He was supposed to be, but the flow just didn't allow for it, but I assure you he'll be back strongly in the next one. Oh, and sorry about Moriarty. I have trouble writing people with accents sometimes even though I can hear them speaking clearly and in character in my head somehow I can't quite get it right on paper. R&R!

**Next Chapter** - Just when Mara is feeling the most alone help comes from an unlikely source, the mysterious Mr. Burke. Will this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, or a beautiful disaster?


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